


Whose Hands These Are

by sophinisba



Category: Merlin (BBC)
Genre: 100-1000 Words, Anonymous Sex, Community: kinkelot, Drabble Sequence, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Sex Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-21
Updated: 2010-02-21
Packaged: 2017-10-07 11:04:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/64540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophinisba/pseuds/sophinisba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Morgana and Morgause's people learn to trust each other.  (Set of six drabbles.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whose Hands These Are

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Anonymity Challenge at the kinkelot community on LJ, thanks to Mia for looking it over. I wrote this as nonconsensual hurt/comfort followed by consensual sex, but the whole thing might have a dubcon vibe for some readers.

She'd fight back if she could, because she doesn't know whose hands these are and she hasn't given them permission to touch her. But she can't move, so she lets them move her.

She doesn't want to drink, will never trust anyone to give her a drink again, but they open her mouth and pour liquid down her throat.

Morgana can't even swallow on her own, can't even breathe. She lets a mouth close over hers. She lets them breathe for her.

She'd like to wake up in Gwen's arms, but she left Gwen sleeping. She's lost that chance now.

***

They talk to her, men's and women's voices. Some are half familiar, but she cannot match them with names or faces, nor even make sense of the words. She knows their tone though – they're trying to sooth her, smoothing their hands over her body like promises of forgiveness, washing away the sweat and grime like sin.

Other times they talk over her, chanting in a language she's been taught all her life to fear. Morgana doesn't feel afraid so much as angry. If they'd brought her here and taught her these spells years ago there'd be nothing to forgive.

***

"Where are the others?" she asks when she can speak again.

"Safe," says the one woman who's remained. "They'll return once you've learned to trust us." Once they know they can trust her, she means.

"_You_ made me into a traitor," Morgana says. "Will you blame me for it now?"

"Not for turning against Uther at last. But for the times you almost did, and for the lives lost when you changed your mind, yes, I will. I do."

"Fine, I'm ready to learn." With an effort she sits up, reaches forward, and takes hold of Morgause's hand. "Teach me."

***

"Touch me," Morgana moans, and a dozen people obey. She doesn't know whose hands these are, but she's given them permission to touch her anyway, welcoming the other witches and warlocks as they make her one of their own. She's filled up with so much magic she thinks she might burst if she couldn't share it, but there's no danger now. It's not like before – they treat her body as the wonder it is, not the broken vessel it was. Spread out on the altar, eyes covered so she can give herself over to sensation, Morgana stretches, softens and smiles.

***

Some of the hands are strange and some familiar. Some she had thought were dead – a man's large hands caress her breasts as she touches his smooth, bald head. She doesn't recognise the smaller hand on her thigh, though she knows a swordswoman's calluses. There's a soft fall of hair on her belly and she tries to guess its colour. She wants to feel them all, know them all. She breathes in deep as another hand slides three fingers inside her and a mouth covers her clit. Another mouth covers Morgana's mouth and she drinks down its power like wine.

***

When the blindfold comes off her old companions and new ones are smiling back at her. Most of them are still gathered close, their hands on her skin to embrace her and help her connect what she felt with what she now sees. They kiss her and whisper their good wishes, while Morgause stands back, watching her, proud as a parent, enraptured as a lover. It's familiar, but not quite familiar enough, and Morgana understands then what she needs to do.

"Thank you," she says, to her teacher, to all of them. "I'm ready now. Let's go back to Camelot."


End file.
